His taste has my body reacting in wanton lust, needily arching into him. I moan into his mouth as my hands move from the back of his head to cup his cheeks. Every single nerve in my body lights up with the contact.
I can feel the hardness of Jacob's dick growing against my hip, and it only spurs me on. I start shamelessly rubbing my body against his, earning a low guttural groan from him. All these pent-up emotions are coming together in an explosive way, driving the need to be intimate with him.
I break away from the kiss to trail my lips along his jaw, the jaw that's forged out of every woman's fantasies. His skin is warm, his scent masculine. The ragged breathing coming from him in my ear has me so hot and wet between my legs that I can hardly stand it.
I feel almost feral with desire. When he follows my lead and starts kissing my neck in return, all I can think is yes, and then my eyes fly skyward, only to land on one of the cameras.
“Can we take this somewhere where there aren't any cameras or turn them off?” I ask on a gasp. Not that I think he'd sell the video, but the thought of being filmed does not appeal to me at all, especially after the life I left behind.
As if coming out of a haze, Jacob suddenly jerks back and then maneuvers his hands between us, gently pushing me back.
“I, um, sorry.”
I instantly feel the space between us as his warmth is replaced by emptiness.
“For what?” Frowning, I try to take a step closer to him once again, but he dodges me, making his way around the counter to take a seat on the armchair.
He runs a hand down his face and along his jaw. “I just . . . I can't not have them on, alright? I can't fucking do anything without the cameras.”
I brace myself on the counter, still trying to calm my breathing from just a moment ago.
“Why would you still need to have them on with me?”
I get why he has them. I really do. But if he still won't be around me without them, then what else can I conclude other than that he still doesn't trust me after all this time.
He lets out a regretful breath before answering. “Because I need to protect myself.”
Turning away from him, I lean my back against the counter.
“Ouch.”
The sting of his words causes a tightness in my chest.
It hurts.
Am I wrong to think he should be comfortable with me by now? Have I not shown him time and time again that I'm on his side? I mean, besides at the very beginning.
Does he really feel like he needs protection from me? I would never accuse him of anything like that.
My chin drops to my chest as I watch my toes wriggle on his wooden floor.
Ten years.
He hasn't had anybody to trust for that long. He couldn't prove his innocence back then, so naturally, he'd want to do everything in his power to be able to do that now. How could I possibly even begin to assume how he should feel. This is a big step for him, and if he feels comfortable having proof on his hands, then I should be able to accommodate him. If not, then I should walk out that door right now.
I angle my head to look over to where he's sitting and take him in. He's leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, looking at the ground. His biceps tense as he continues to run a hand along his jaw. His hair is adorably mussed up from me.
And I know very well there is no way I could walk away from him now.
Even if it means being filmed having sex.
I push away from the counter, grabbing one of the condoms and slipping it into my back pocket before I begin walking over to him. His head lifts up as I get closer, and he watches me intently when I step into his space.
Positioning myself between his legs, I gently nudge his shoulders with both hands, pushing him to lean back against the chair.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he asks skeptically.
